I'm crouched down next to the bathtub, watching the mirror to see him go by and I can hopefully run the other way down the hall. Except that he just walks calmly into the bathroom and grabs me by the throat. I'm clawing and kicking trying to get away and I realize something. His very casual manner suggests that he isn't going to kill me. Immediately. He's got time, now. Whatever his objective was, he's acheived it and I'm going to be the post-game entertainment. And then he's going to kill me. I close my eyes, because this is going to become extremely horrible.
But when I open them, I'm in a different room entirely with a very beautiful woman who's dressed in a long, flowing dress and looking concerned. She asks me all sorts of questions about exactly how to get to my house and what he was doing when I left. I'm shaken, but I answer her as best I can, not really knowing where I am, so not being able to give her directions. There is a television going, and she's watching coverage of the destruction being wrought by this regiment of men. She's shaking her head and saying "I knew it."
I ask her what she intends to do, and she tells me that she used to belong to that regiment. I think about what a bloodthirsty bunch of barbarians they are and can hardly believe it, but she tells me that they weren't always like this. She asks me if I saw their standard, the flag behind which they march into battle. I tell her that I might have seen the standard-bearer go by, but I wasn't really paying attention. She said that their standard sang. The actual flag sang a song that led the men into battle. But that those standards and the magic associated with them were specifically meant to be carried by a particular group of women. It took the women to "complete" the magic of the standards.
I told her that it was obvious that he didn't need her to win, and she said that it wasn't the point. It wasn't about winning - that if she had been at the head of the regiment, things would never have gotten this out of hand. Without the standard, the troops had no mitigating factor. They ran amok and did nothing but kill and destroy. They would win glorious victory after glorious victory - for a very short time. And then they would start to lose, and would eventually lose more than they had won. With the right woman bearing the standard at their head, the troops would be disciplined and might not win every battle, but would constantly be making progress. And those the regiment conquered would be treated fairly and humanely.
And now, she said, she had to go get her flag back. She didn't have any special psychic connection to it. Once they kicked her out, she had to have help finding them again. But now that she knew where to find them, it didn't sound to me like she was going to have any problems getting it back on her own.
At the end of the dream, peace has been restored. The beautiful woman, it turns out, is the wife of the horrible general. They have two children, a boy of about four and a girl of about eight. The boy is a little soldier, the spitting image of his father and as they're walking out, it seems at first as though the boy is his favorite, but I realized it wasn't true. The little girl was scowling. Her blonde hair was matted into dreadlocks and shaved far up the back of her head. On the scalp at the very back of her head were bruises that looked self-inflicted. And he held his hand protectively behind her back in a way that said very clearly that she was his favorite, and that she would grow to be just like her mother.
No, I have no fucking clue what it means.